Only a short respite it was, and then came wind and rain and rough
seas--rougher than ever. I was first lifted up nearly to the barrel,
and then let down again with a pitch, and then for some minutes was kept
swinging about--the staff serving as a pivot--like some wonderful
acrobat performing his feats in a gymnasium.

I withstood the first shock, and though it bowled me about, I held on
manfully. I knew I was holding on for my life, and "needs must;" but I
had slight reason to be satisfied. I felt how near it was to taking me,
and I had gloomy forebodings about the result. Worse might come after,
and I knew that a few struggles like this last would soon wear me out.

What, then, could I do that would enable me to hold on? In the interval
between the great seas, this was my ruling thought. If I had only been
possessed of a rope, I could have tied myself to the staff; but then a
rope was as far away as a boat, or an easy chair by my uncle's fireside.
It was no use thinking of a rope, nor did I waste time in doing so; but
just at that moment, as if some good spirit had put the idea into my
head, I thought of something as good as a rope--a _substitute_. Yes,
the very thing came up before my mind, as though Providence had guided
me to think of it.

You are impatient to hear what it was. You shall hear.

Around my arms and shoulders I wore a garment familiarly known as a
"cord jacket"--a roundabout of corduroy cloth, such as boys in the
humbler ranks of life use to wear, or did when I was a boy. It was my
everyday suit, and after my poor mother's death it had come to be my
Sunday wear as well. Let us say nothing to disparage this jacket. I
have since then been generally a well-dressed man, and have worn
broadcloth of the finest that West of England looms could produce; but
all the wardrobe I ever had would not in one bundle weigh as much in my
estimation as that corduroy jacket. I think I may say that I owe my
life to it.

Well, the jacket chanced to have a good row of buttons upon it--not the
common horn, or bone, or flimsy lead ones, such as are worn nowadays,
but good, substantial metal buttons--as big as a shilling every way, and
with strong iron eyes in them. Well was it for me they were so good and
strong.

I had the jacket upon my person, and that, too, was a chance in my
favour, for just as like I might not have had it on. When I started to
overtake the boat, I had thrown off both jacket and trou